The Best-Ever British Boxing Nicknames | Bleacher Report The Best-Ever British Boxing Nicknames Use your ← → (arrow) keys to browse the slideshow Associated Press David Haye and Gavin Rees 8.0K 13 Comments Perhaps no sport is as linked with nicknames as boxing, so much so that when Sylvester Stallone penned Rocky, he gave no fewer than five to fictional heavyweight champion Apollo Creed . Fighters have always attracted monikers, going back to 19th-century champ Nonpareil Dempsey and beyond, but really took off around the 1920s, spearheaded by that era's heavyweight king Jack Dempsey—"The Manassa Mauler." British boxing was not always so enamoured with the nickname, associating it more with the hoopla and razzmatazz of the US, where it was a sport for the press pack to coin a nom-de-guerre for upcoming contenders. Plenty of British champions such as Benny Lynch, Ken Buchanan and John Conteh never attracted a moniker that stuck. It's maybe not entirely coincidental that it was in the 1980s, the decade of the Big Bang and rampant commercialism, that the UK truly embraced the nickname.

The likes of "Ragamuffin Man" Lloyd Honeyghan and "Clones Cyclone" Barry McGuigan won world titles and almost edge their way into this list. Consequently, this countdown is dominated by fighters of more recent vintage or those who fought on American soil and picked up a nickname there. Among those who just missed out are Sheffield super-bantamweight Kid Galahad, lightweight contender Anthony "Million Dollar" Crolla and the always enigmatic early 2000s light-middleweight Richard "The Secret" Williams—a name that divides opinion but lodges itself in the memory. And now, here are the 15 best-ever nicknames in British boxing.

Years Active: 1989-2003 Record: 41-2-1 with 32 KOs Early in his career, Lewis was known as "The Lion," but later on he coined his own more distinctive moniker as "The Pugilist Specialist." It fit Lewis' self-styling as a cerebral fighter who talked of his fondness for chess, and although this didn't always go down well with American audiences, he ultimately emerged as the king of the 1990s heavyweights, avoided by Riddick Bowe before defeating Evander Holyfield and Mike Tyson. This nickname may not inspire fear in the heart of opponents but suited a fighter who could systematically take opponents apart, ultimately registering wins over every man he faced. Years Active: 1986-2002 Record: 31-12-1 with 11 KOs Pictured above is Silky Jones on the left in a British title fight against one of the worst nicknamed Brits—"Spice Boy" Ryan Rhodes.

Before footballers had "good tekkers" or other such recent abominations, they had "silky skills." Paul Jones brought the term to boxing even if wasn't always as silky as he may have made out with 12 losses on his record, four by way of knockout. However, he did claim the WBO light-middleweight title back in 1995 with a huge upset win over Verno Phillips, a great effort on the night and what remains his claim to fame. With a distinctively British use of the word "silky" and the telling fact that he was often referred to in print as just Silky Jones, so that some may not even know his first name, this has to rank highly. File alongside "Sugar" Ray Robinson and "Mantequilla" Jose Napoles. Years Active: 1901-1913, 1919 Record: 53-3-5 with 35 KOs (plus 8 "newspaper decisions") Jim Driscoll wasn't literally undefeated, but like Nonpareil Dempsey before him, he lost very few fights at a time when top fighters took more risks and thus suffered more defeats.

Driscoll had lost just once when in 1909 he beat world featherweight champion Abe Attell on points in a fight where it was stipulated that only a KO could win the Welsh challenger the crown. Despite winning 10 straight fights on US soil from late 1918 to early the next year, he never got the proper title shot he deserved but did claim the British and European belts. On the back of his excellent form in America, it was the legendary cowboy and U.S. newspaperman Bat Masterson who dubbed him "Peerless Jim," a label he thoroughly deserved. Years Active: 2003- Record: 23-12 with 12 KOs Losing six of his first 11 fights, Ovill McKenzie was never supposed to get anywhere in the sport and hasn't benefited from major promotional backing at any point in his career. His nickname, "The Upsetter," recognises that he is reduced to the role of the away fighter looking to spring a surprise on the local favourite—but it's a role he has relished with notable successes.

He nearly did for future world-title challenger Tony Bellew in Liverpool back in 2010, flooring Bellew hard in both of the opening two rounds before the Liverpudlian rallied. After losing a rematch with Bellew, he has bounced back, latterly as a cruiserweight holding both British and Commonwealth titles with five of his last six fights being early KO wins. London's Tony Conquest and County Durham's Jon-Lewis Dickinson are the two most recent victims to be upset in their backyards by McKenzie. Years Active: 1926-1953 Record: 84-34-17 with 24 KOs In the 100-year span between the two undisputed British heavyweight champions—Bob Fitzsimmons and Lennox Lewis—Tommy Farr probably came closest to claiming the crown. He gave champion Joe Louis an unexpectedly tough night at Yankee Stadium in 1937, winning several rounds and going the distance whilst taking his own fair share of licks.

It was his impressive performances on a US tour that continued into 1938 that won him the respect of US sports-writers, which has often been in short supply for British heavies, and with it the sobriquet of "The Tonypandy Terror." This evocative name was typical of the early 20th century and heavyweights such as "The Ambling Alp" Primo Carnera, "The Boston Gob" Jack Sharkey and "The Pottawatomie Giant" Jess Willard. Farr was a British champion and registered a win over former world champion Max Baer. Years Active: 1978-1992, 1996-1998 Record: 48-6 with 28 KOs It has become something of a truism that Herol Graham was one of the best British fighters never to win a world-title, dropping a split-decision to Mike McCallum in 1989, knocked out by Julian Jackson the next year and stopped late against Charles Brewer on his comeback in 1997.

The British WBO champions of the early 1990s, Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank, were none too keen to face Graham, seeing him as a high-risk, low-reward opponent. His nickname, "Bomber," was deliberately misleading, characterising him as a guy who would be looking for a big punch when he was in actuality a defensive maestro who could frustrate opponents with his unorthodox style and lightning reflexes. The name stuck firm, however, and to this day he is mentioned in print and on the airwaves as just "Bomber" Graham. Latterly Tony Bellew has adopted the same moniker but with less resonance. Years Active: 2008- Record: 10-8 with 9 KOs Larry Olubamiwo is proof that a great nickname can only take you so far. A confessed comicbook fan, he adopted "The War Machine" from an Iron Man character. He was seen as something of a prospect, despite turning pro aged 30, and won 10 of his first 11 fights, all but one of them by KO.

The former bodybuilder's limitations were brutally exposed in 2011 at the York Hall when John McDermott finished him inside the first round. Olubamiwo hasn't won since and sullied his reputation by failing a drugs test in 2012 before admitting to using 13 banned substances. Perhaps it's a shame that a name that conjures so much didn't find a better home, but it's a really good one and deserves its high placing. Years Active: 1911-1921, 1923 Record: 132-3-1 with 99 KOs (plus 8 "newspaper decisions") Jimmy Wilde is arguably the best-ever British boxer pound-for-pound and was the world flyweight champion from 1916 to 1923. He attracted several nicknames including "The Mighty Atom" and "The Tylorstown Terror," but the most pictorial remains "The Ghost with the Hammer in His Hand." For much of his career, Wilde weighed in below 100 pounds when the flyweight limit is 112.

At 5'2.5", he looked small and emaciated yet he still racked up an incredible 99 career knockouts. In 1999, The Ring ranked him the 13th-best fighter of the 20th century across all weight classes. Years Active: 1904-1915 Record: 19-8-1 with 16 KOs Nearly 100 years before there was "Iron" Mike Tyson and Paul "Scrap Iron" Ryan, there was a Yorkshire heavyweight called Iron Hague. He won the British and European heavyweight titles in 1906 by first-round KO but lost against pound-for-pound legend Sam Langford in the same year, the American fighter himself memorably dubbed "The Boston Tar Baby." According to local historians from Mexborough, Hague's hometown, his was a childhood nickname bestowed on him for his iron self will and the ability to take severe corporal punishment without betraying any pain—good preparation for the prize ring. Iron Hague is not to be confused with his namesake and fellow Yorkshireman William Hague, the former Foreign Secretary and one-time Conservative leader.

Years Active: 1987-1996 Record: 42-5-1 with 35 KOs Few fighters have embodied their nickname better than '"he Dark Destroyer" Nigel Benn, one of the flat-out most intimidating British boxers ever. Benn came to destroy or be destroyed and only nine of his 48 fights went the distance—he was memorably outlasted by domestic rivals Michael Watson in 1989 and Chris Eubank in 1990. The Ilford man is notable for his willingness to travel and take on tough challenges, winning world titles on the road in two weight classes, seeing off Doug DeWitt, Iran Barkley and Mauro Galvano along the way. Benn was part of a glamorous era for British boxing when fights on ITV brought in more than 10 million viewers on several occasions . With his flash suits, menacing persona and impressive KO ratio, Benn was a popular favourite who more than lived up to his billing. Years Active: 2002-2012 Record: 26-2 with 24 KOs Some things are just meant to be.

A big-swinging, big-punching cruiserweight turned heavyweight with the surname of Haye could only become "The Hayemaker." Incredibly the clip above shows that Haye made it many years in boxing before the lightning bolt struck and the seemingly most obvious of nicknames was adopted. A pre-national treasure status Clare Balding makes some terrible alternative suggestions as well. Haye says in the interview, "I'm not going to use a nickname," which is probably the first of many occasions that he told the British public one thing and then did another. "The Hayemaker," now nearly 34, has not fought since 2012, but if he can return to fitness, there are some big domestic fights available against young up-and-comers Tyson Fury and Anthony Joshua. Years Active: 1910-1925 Record: 41-1 with 34 KOs Technically this is not a nickname but a military rank because Stepney heavyweight Billy Wells was a bombardier in the British Army before he became a professional boxer, with the perfect moniker already at hand.

Wells followed Iron Hague as British heavyweight champion and also scored a win over Gunner Moir, who held the rank below bombardier in the Royal Artillery. After the outbreak of World War One, many of Wells' opponents had military-inflected names such as Guardsman Charlie Penwill, Soldier Jones and the less-than-fearsome-sounding Bandsman Dick Rice. Wells would not have much success on the international stage, twice being knocked out in European title challenges against France's Georges Carpentier who had the singular nom-de-guerre of "The Orchid Man." Years Active: 1992-2002 Record: 36-1 with 31 KOs "You know I bring drama, excitement, you know me, Larry—from my wicked entrance, my flip over the ropes, to a knock-out." So the Prince summed himself up speaking to HBO in 2000. It was often remarked in the 1990s, a time when the Royal Family was perceived to be out of favour, that Prince Naseem was the most popular prince in the land, even if he wasn't too high up in the line of succession.

The long-time world featherweight king elevated himself with his own title early in his boxing career, a typical act of bravado from a showman who ran on confidence. The story may well be apocryphal, but when Hamed arrived in America for his first showcase fight against Kevin Kelley (pictured) with a huge HBO advertising spend behind him, it was said that some US observers genuinely believed he was descended from Yemeni royalty. Such was the pervasiveness and brilliance of the nickname Prince Naseem, a grandiose moniker which Hamed earned the right to bear with his hugely entertaining boxing career. All boxer records from BoxRec .

Nigel Benn: How the Dark Destroyer found faith | Christian News on Christian Today Nigel Benn: How the Dark Destroyer found faith Mark Woods Christian Today Contributing Editor 10 June 2015 Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Pin it Next Post >> x To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video Benn (L) with old opponent Michael Watson ahead of Watson's 50th birthday party in April.Reuters He was known as the Dark Destroyer in his boxing prime, but now Nigel Benn is concentrating on building people up, not knocking them down – though he hasn't turned his back on the sport. Benn, an army veteran who served in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, was one of the most successful British boxers ever. He became the WBC and WBO super middleweight champion, with a record of 42 wins from 48 fights, including two knockouts. However, 20 years ago a fight against American boxer Gerald McClellan ended disastrously.

Benn won the fight – described by boxing journalist Hugh Mcilvanney as "relentless, mutually destructive aggression...one of the most brutal fights any of us at ringside had witnessed" – but McClellan was left with brain damage and confined to a wheelchair. Benn subsequently raised large amounts of money to help pay for his care. He left boxing not long afterwards and went through a troubled period in his life, famously describing himself as "Satan's right hand man". He drank, took drugs, suffered from depression and attempted suicide one night in his car. The death of his older brother, who died in unexplained circumstances when Benn was only eight, was a continuing shadow over his life. Related Seven of the most influential Christians in Hollywood He and his family moved to Australia after several years living in Spain at the suggestion of his wife Carolyne, where they attend Hillsong Church. In a Sydney Morning Herald interview, Benn recalls the moment he "said the prayer of salvation": "All my addictions from drink, from sex and smoking weed it [clicks his fingers] all went like that.

I was set free from everything." He has attended Hillsong College and is using his boxing skills to mentor other would-be fighters – including his promising son Connor. Advertisement He told the Guardian : "My new drug is serving people whether its through boxing or in my role for Hillsong as a volunteer assisting people with their marriages or helping those less fortunate. "I'm great friends with an 80-year-old woman whose lawn I cut and do odd jobs for. It's a required part of the service." He added: "I won two world titles and filled Old Trafford, owned a Bentley and a mansion, had tea at Buckingham Palace, DJ'd at Ministry of Sound, served proudly in the British Army and here I am cutting the grass of an 80-year-old woman. And lovin' it. I look at my life now and I feel blessed, no more drugs or smoking, I'm fittest I've ever been. Look at my family. I can't ask for more." The Cult: Nigel Benn | VICE Sports April 19, 2016 Jim Weeks The Cult: Nigel Benn The latest inductee to The Cult was a popular and gutsy British boxer whose bouts with Chris Eubank attracted huge TV audiences.

You can (in fact you must) read our previous entries here . Cult Grade: From Darkness into Light Nicknames in sport sometimes come across as forced, but when Nigel Benn stalked into a boxing ring as "The Dark Destroyer" it felt like a natural fit. During his heyday in the 1990s, there were times when Benn went to a dark place within himself – where years of anger lay buried – and became capable of destroying anything that lay in his path. Even his own life seemed to teeter over the abyss. The man whose fights with Chris Eubank became the stuff of British sporting legend was shaped by an emotionally fraught journey to the top. Born to Barbadian immigrants, the sixth of seven boys, Benn grew up in Ilford, north-east London. He first experienced tragedy when his elder brother and hero, Andy, died in suspicious and violent circumstances. Nigel was just eight, and he later talked of carrying the anger and confusion over his brother's death deep into his adult life. He quickly grew into a tough kid who wasn't afraid to express himself with his fists.

Nigel shoplifted and fought with local National Front skinheads, hustled and smoked, and seemed to be heading towards a fate similar to that of his lost sibling. Aware of this, his father Dixon pushed him towards joining the army, another elder brother having already done the same. It was in the forces that Benn took up boxing, finding an immense aptitude for the sport, as well as a new sense of purpose and direction. He not only dominated in the ring, but began coaching others, too. READ MORE: The Cult – Chris Eubank When asked in interviews, Benn can recall the exact time he spent in the army: "Four years, 256 days". For 18 months of that stretch he was stationed in Northern Ireland, a country still gripped by its long-running ethno-nationalist struggle. And, while the service had positives, the experience of being a young black squaddie in a conflict zone left another mark on Benn's soul. Boxing success followed as an amateur and a pro, but there was no fairtytale element to Benn's career.

He lost his Commonwealth title to Michael Watson in 1989, lost to his bitter rival Eubank in 1990, and was then denied what he felt should have been his redemptive moment when their rematch was scored a draw in 1993. Even what could have been his greatest achievement – defeating the much-hyped Gerald McClellan in a brutal encounter in 1995 – was marred by tragedy. After being written off by the bookies and knocked out of the ring in the first round, Benn fought back with typical heart to beat his opponent. It should have been one for the ages, but a blood clot on the brain left McClellan permanently disabled, blind, and requiring round the clock care to this day. That fight is only remembered for its dreadful aftermath, for leaving McClellan in darkness. Try as he might, not all of Benn's demons could be exorcised in a boxing ring. Throughout his years as a top-draw fighter he battled drink and drug addiction, had numerous affairs, and attempted suicide in 1999.

He was a man who seemed always on the brink of being enveloped by the darkness, forever battling to stay just the right side of an evil force that could only sometimes be harnessed. It would have been little surprise if Benn had allowed the darkness to destroy him entirely, but today, as a born-again Christian, he seems to have found peace within himself. Perhaps some old scars remain, but it would seem that the Dark Destroyer cherishes his new life in the light. Point of Entry: Medium After leaving the army Benn took work as a security guard while climbing the amateur ranks, eventually making his professional debut shortly after his 23rd birthday, in January 1987. By the following April he had become Commonwealth middleweight champion, but lost the belt to the talented Watson. Benn picked himself up and fought on, a theme of his career and life. Contesting his next five fights in the United States, in April 1990 he earned the WBO middleweight title by defeating American Doug DeWitt, then made a successful defence against Iran Barkley. Benn was now a world champion and his star had grown back home.

His life was about to become inextricably linked with the man who he would face next: Chris Eubank. The build up to their fight in November 1990 was as bitter as any in British boxing. There is a TV clip from the pre-fight contract signing in which Eubank refuses to look at Benn in an effort to psyche his opponent out; all Benn can do is stare menacingly at the back of his rival's head. Eubank is asked if he hates Benn and replies that he does not; asked the same question, Benn replies, "I do personally hate him." And you sense that, in the moment, he really bloody means it. In hindsight, this long-running feud between the broadly disliked Eubank and the considerably more popular Benn was a fantastic box office draw and made both men very wealthy, a fact Benn now acknowledges with a smile. 18 million watched their second fight in 1993, roughly one in every four people in Britain. Like all good foes, they desperately needed each other. Naturally, Benn would have preferred to be on the winning side of at least one of those bouts.

The first was a dramatic contest, Benn knocking Eubank down in the ninth only for his opponent to rise and land a left hook, then a flurry of blows that ended the fight. Afterwards, Eubank called Benn the hardest puncher he had ever faced. READ MORE: The Cult – Muhammad Ali Again, Benn picked himself up and found new success. After the Eubank defeat he went on a 10-fight winning streak that included claiming the WBC super middleweight title in October 1992 and defending it three times. Soon enough, Eubank was calling again. But, by the second contest, Eubank had been forever changed by his bout with Watson, who suffered permanent neurological damage after their fight in 1991. Eubank seemed to have lost his finishing instinct, and was fighting opponents of questionable quality. Of course, he was always going to be up for the Benn fight. Though it did not hit the same high notes as the first it was nevertheless unmissable and, with the scorecards level late on, the final round saw both men go to war to secure the win.

The bout was declared a draw; Benn retained his WBC belt, Eubank his WBO championship. For Benn, two more successful defences followed before the McClellan fight. Though he retained his title twice more after that dark night in London, he was not the same afterwards. He surrendered his super-middleweight title to "Sugar Boy" Malinga in March 1996 with a display that did not resemble the Nigel Benn of old. The heart had gone; two more defeats to Steve Collins signalled an overdue end. Like Eubank, Benn could not claim to have been the best in the world – Roy Jones Jr held that mantle in the middleweight divisions during this period, and neither fought the American. But he was a brave, hugely determined man who would always fight to the bitter end. Benn at his best was like a wounded animal, one that attacked with most ferocity when he'd been hurt emotionally or physically. Take him to a dark place and Nigel Benn could destroy almost anything.

The Moment: Coming back for more, vs Gerald McClellan The McClellan fight epitomised Benn: to be knocked clean out of the ring in the first round (at 3 minutes in the video below), then return with a flurry of blows in the second, was his life in microcosm. What happened later in the bout was a tragedy, but in that moment of recovery Benn had shown himself to be the gutsiest of fighters. Closing Statement "I can't say [Gerald McClellan] was my best fight, though, because he came out in a wheelchair, blind and 80 per cent deaf. Not that I cared at the time because I wasn't a Christian at the time and thought everybody had to be knocked over."––Nigel Benn Nigel Benn - The Dark Destroyer - YouTube Nigel Benn - The Dark Destroyer Want to watch this again later? Sign in to add this video to a playlist. Need to report the video? Sign in to report inappropriate content. Rating is available when the video has been rented. This feature is not available right now. Please try again later.

Published on May 23, 2016 Highlights of the former Middleweight and Super-Middleweight world champion. Nigel Benn - Is a British former professional boxer. Nicknamed the "Dark Destroyer" for his punching power and aggressive fighting style, Benn held the WBO middleweight and WBC super-middleweight titles during a career which spanned eleven years, and he is ranked by BoxRec as the fourth best British super-middleweight boxer of all time. Nigel Benn: 'Boxing is therapy for rage' | Sport | The Guardian Sportblog Nigel Benn: 'Boxing is therapy for rage' The British former world champion hit rock bottom before finding salvation and then redemption at an amateur gym on the other side of the world in Australia Former World Champion Nigel Benn in the ring at Blacktown PCYC in Sydney’s western suburbs after a long afternoon of training and teaching.

Photograph: Matthew Abbott for the Guardian Sportblog Nigel Benn: 'Boxing is therapy for rage' The British former world champion hit rock bottom before finding salvation and then redemption at an amateur gym on the other side of the world in Australia Tuesday 9 June 2015 17.00 EDT Last modified on Monday 10 October 2016 21.52 EDT Share on Messenger Close Boxing regularly throws up stories of courage, persistence, triumph and tragedy, and is a sport that thrives in tough working class areas. In Sydney, the real estate boom has gentrified boxing’s inner-city heartland, moving it to clusters in the distant outer suburbs, and 40 kilometres out west, Blacktown has become the new epicentre of Australian boxing. The Vinegar Hill Boxing Gym sits in the heart of a dusty industrial area, in the roof cavity at the back of a concrete factory wedged between exhaust muffler and scrap metal dealers. It is named after the 1798 Battle of Vinegar Hill – the last stand of the Irish Rebels against the English and its local namesake, the 1804 Battle of Vinegar Hill when the British Colonial army crushed an Irish convict rebellion nearby.

The gym reeks of struggle. The posters hanging off the cinder blocks surrounding the ring are old-school – Thomas Hearns, Mike Tyson, Roberto Duran, Sugar Ray Leonard, Muhammad Ali, Sonny Liston. It is a surreal yet suitable habitat for a boxing blue blood, Nigel Benn, nicknamed the Dark Destroyer and at his peak one of England’s most recognisable sporting heroes. Benn’s record as an amateur boxer was 41-1 before he turned professional in 1987. Over a nine-year career he won two world titles, at middleweight and super middleweight, and finished with a professional career record of 42-5-1 with 35 knockouts. Trainer Rod Williams waits patiently on the ropes for Benn’s private training session to start. Williams is a wiry and wise South African who moved to Australia from the tough streets of Johannesburg at the age of 10. A champion coach, he has devoted his life to the fight game and now trains a stable of rookies and elite amateurs including Benn’s son Conor. Benn was so impressed at Williams’s work with his son that he joined the stable himself to keep learning. Williams trains champions like Benn, but he also works with novice fighters.

“They are the ones who teach me how to teach,” he says. Since taking on Benn over a year ago, Williams has been shocked at his ability to do new things. “He could easily have played the old dog you can’t teach new tricks to, but in every single session he’s done everything I’ve asked,” says Williams. “He has never put the ‘I’m the Dark Destroyer’ on me. He’s good that way. For a man over 50 his stamina and strength is amazing.” Pinterest Benn working the pads with trainer Rod Williams. Photograph: Matthew Abbott for the Guardian Inside the ring, Benn explodes into action. The stereo blares while Williams calls the shots and Benn obliges. Conor leans on the ropes watching his father’s every move. Conor has now had 20 amateur fights and is planning to join the Hatton Academy in Manchester run by former world champion Ricky Hatton. “I still watch my father’s fights” Conor says with a smile. “I look up to him and he’s my inspiration. I didn’t know how big he was growing up in Spain. Until we went to England and everybody wanted a photo – it was bizarre.

Look at him – he’s still looking good!” Benn Snr is in mint condition and throwing thunderclap straight rights into the pads, working feverishly through three-minute rounds with half-minute rests. Between rounds, Williams chimes in: “Conor brings a lot to the table genetically but gets no special privileges.” “He’s got the DNA!” shouts Benn, sweating profusely, but Williams continues. “Conor loves it to death but he has to be patient.” The buzzer rings and the gruelling rounds continue. Williams has his eyes closed now as Benn machine guns short punches into the pads before exploding with a series of vicious left hooks. Williams stops Benn mid-round to explain an adjustment in angles. Benn soaks it in: “I got you, I see what you mean.” As the end of the 12th round looms, Benn finishes with a furious flurry that goes one minute over time. “That’s what an old man can do!” he yells. Towelling off the sweat, he invites my questions: “Bring it on!” Pinterest “It’s all in the mind,” says Benn to the photographer as he hurtles through his training regime.

Photograph: Matthew Abbott for the Guardian Born in 1964 in Ilford in east London to immigrant parents from Barbados, Benn was brought up in Essex before moving to Spain and then settling in Australia in 2013: “Tell you the truth my wife Carolyne suggested it,” Benn says. “I said to her ‘Australia? You must be mad, everything’s venomous’. Then I worked through it. We black men don’t surf so that ruled out sharks.” Eventually, he was convinced. Twelve years in Spain was enough, and it was easy to communicate in Australia. His first day in Sydney had a huge impact. He remembers ordering fried rice in English from a Chinese waiter. “I thought, ‘Here we are!’” he says. “I fell in love with it all – the size of the beaches, the big blue sky, the barbecues and focus on families getting together.” Benn left painful memories back in England. At the age of eight his hero older brother Andy was killed suspiciously and violently at just 17, and a hole was created that nothing could fill. “Something severed when my brother died,” he says. “I was living but not living.

Andy used to lie on the bunk bed and cuddle me – I was his lion cub. He had proper respect in Ilford. I was a scared little boy who didn’t want to die. I cried myself to sleep every night.” After Andy’s death, Benn began smoking, hustling on the street, and eventually continuing his brother’s work fighting against the National Front racist skinheads. “The black and white communities would come to together at Ilford Town Hall to listen to soul music and they [the skinheads] would wait for us outside,” says Benn. “I was into Bruce Lee at the time and I remember knocking one skinhead out with a hop, skip and a jump through the air and my leg cracked him.” Benn remembers shouting: “I was born here mate. I’m more English than you are.” School was a blur as he roamed the streets until the early hours of the morning. Even though he went wild fighting on the streets, Benn’s staunch father was there for him with some tough love Bajan style. Benn smiles.

“I would get in some trouble, my father would hear about it and when I got back home he would bellow in a thick Bajan accent ‘If you can’t hear you can feel’, followed by a clip. He gave it to me but I still respect him today.” The value of his father’s discipline became apparent later in life. “I didn’t understand at the time but later he explained it to me. He said by hook or crook, you’re not going to end up like your brother.” Benn’s father insisted he join his older brother in the British Army and he took to “squaddie” life with relish, kicking off his boxing career and surviving some harrowing times in Northern Ireland including losing friends in the Ballykelly bombing . “I was just a brother wanting to do my time and get out,” he says. After almost five years Benn left the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers with an exemplary record, tried security but was lured into professional boxing, skyrocketing to a 22-0 record and building a reputation as an exciting puncher with a growing fanbase. It all came crashing down when he was “ rope-a-doped ” brilliantly by fellow Brit Michael Watson and having punched himself out, was knocked out himself.

“I had some friends who disappeared to hang out with Michael,” says Benn, who sat alone in the change room after the fight. “I didn’t want to leave the house and decided to go to America.” The experience was an epiphany and defeat can be instructive. “I’d been lying to myself about how good I was.” Boxing was different in America. “It’s the land of truth over there,” says Benn. “Guys off the street can give you a tough spar. Reputations mean nothing.” But the move paid off. He won the world middleweight title against Doug De Witt in New Jersey in 1990. In his first defence he brutalised fearsome Iran “the Blade” Barkley in a famous one round war that made him an international star. When Barkley looked away from him at the weigh-in, Benn knew he had his man. Pinterest Benn v Eubank in November 1990. Eubank stopped Benn in the ninth round.

Photograph: Bob Thomas/Getty Images Confidence restored, Benn returned to England, thrilling crowds with his power and aggression propelling him to a string of wins including a second world title – the WBC super middleweight belt and two fierce wars with Chris Eubank , losing one and drawing the second in front of 47,000 fans at Old Trafford and over 18 million people on free-to-air television. A contract dispute led to Benn being “thrown to the wolves” against Don King’s undefeated American Gerald “Mini Mike Tyson” McClellan for the seventh defence of his WBC super middleweight title in 1995. It was a violent, brutal fight , the British Bulldog versus the American Pitbull, and Benn was bludgeoned near unconscious and out of the ring in the first round before getting himself back into the contest, roared on by a partisan crowd. McClellan eventually retired on one knee in the 10th round, dehydrated, confused and blinking. Pinterest Benn launches a counter-attack during his 1995 fight with Gerald McClellan in London.

Photograph: Getty Images British fight writer Hugh Mcilvanney described the fight as “relentless, mutually destructive aggression…one of the most brutal fights any of us at ringside had witnessed.” McClellan was rushed to hospital cutting Benn’s celebrations short. He had scored one of the bravest, most dramatic victories in English sporting history – a titanic struggle and the devil took the hindmost. Benn had a damaged nose and jaw, urinated blood for three days and had a shadow on the brain. The fight left McClellan blind, 80% deaf and paralysed in a wheelchair, in the care of his sisters. This year marks 20 years since McClellan was paralysed. Eight years ago Benn returned to England to raise $250,000 to assist McClellan’s care.

In an emotional reunion, Benn was granted forgiveness by McClellan’s sister, who once told the media “We want Benn dead, we want his money”, and, “How does a man who almost killed a man sleep at night?” To see Benn and McClellan embrace is one of the most moving moments in boxing history with the latter in his wheelchair asking: “Am I handsome?” “It’s my greatest moment in the ring but I can’t celebrate it,” says Benn. “I’ve done what I can and I’m grateful it’s been laid to rest. It’s a cross I have to bear but ultimately I’m here to support my family.” Benn was never the same again and his career soon ended. Without the discipline of boxing his life descended into a path well trodden of chaos featuring drugs, cheating, fast women and slow horses. Famously, Benn was once quoted as saying: “I was Satan’s right hand man.” He suffered depression and attempted suicide one lonely night in the car. Rock bottom is a good foundation and Benn found salvation in religion joining a long line of religious boxers including Evander Holyfield and George Foreman.

In an attempt to expel his demons Benn left his marital home and went to live with his pastor who assigned him to a 63-year-old woman. “She broke me down slowly,” he says with a wince. “She made me deal with my unresolved issues with drugs, sex addiction and the anger at the loss of my brother. No more spliffs, no more cheating, no more swearing. Get this. I was only allowed to watch Little House on the Prairie and loved it. I’ve got all 11 seasons on DVD!” Pinterest A portrait of former World Champion Benn after his workout. Photograph: Matthew Abbott for the Guardian Benn interrupts the memories, checking his watch. “We’re late for Blacktown PCYC, let’s go,” he says. Blacktown Police Youth Citizens Club is one of the most diverse sports clubs in Australia, a kaleidoscope of cultures blending together daily. Presiding over operations at her front office desk is community veteran club manager Jo Tau, a Samoan Dutch Kiwi who has one eye on her computer and the other keeping track of movement in the centre. She has no doubt of the importance of the PCYC.

“More than once community tensions have calmed down when the different groups have met here or know each other from here,” she says. “Most recently we had some tension between the South Sudanese and Pacific Communities and leaders from our club helped return things to normal.” Tau remembers how Benn built the relationship with her and her husband, coming over to their house and cooking for the pair. “A world champion, in our little shack!” she says excitedly. “Nigel is a very humble man and has a presence about him that brings people in. I’ve had clients in my office who have nearly dropped to the floor like screaming schoolgirls when they’ve seen him. We’ve got a world champ interacting with our kids and adults, in of all places, Blacktown!” Pointing upstairs to the thudding boxing gym, she says: “His culture up there is all about family. We see the power of boxing here to engage youth. It’s not just something anyone can do and Nigel doesn’t sugarcoat, he gives it to them big time.” Benn has also helped out with at-risk youth and Tau is thrilled with the results.

She says 30 disengaged kids who stopped going to school were spellbound by Benn’s presence after seeing highlights of his career. “Every time they are quiet, no fidgeting,” she says. “He shares his stories from the heart, then has a big laugh with all of them at the sausage sizzle afterwards. And sure enough some of them go back to school. He’s here to make a difference and he has been changing lives here for more than two years.” The upstairs boxing gym is bristling with feverish hustle, the windows foggy and the air larded with the aroma of toil. Around the ring fighters are lined up to do one round on the pads with Benn, whilst some are skipping and others thudding the heavy bags monotonously – the echoes of aspiration. A grandmother in a hijab looks on and smiles as her two grandsons wrestle a big punching bag. Pinterest Conor Benn (standing, left), son of Nigel Benn, is among those training at Blacktown PCYC. Photograph: Matthew Abbott for the Guardian Legen Hale arrived in Australia in January 2015, a proud Maori from Hamilton, New Zealand, and overweight at 150 kilograms.

By his own admission he had no discipline and focus and came to Australia to turn his life around. Five months after first arriving at Blacktown PCYC, Hale has lost 45 kilograms under the tough love of the Dark Destroyer. “Nigel pushed me to the limit and stood by me on a hard journey. Every day he was on me,” says Hale. “My clothes are loose, I’ve got a great job, my own car, I’m moving faster, concentrating more. At the weekly weigh-in Nigel would look me in the eye and say – ‘You can’t lie to me, you’re just lying to yourself’.” Eventually Hale broke: “Finally I got discipline and accountability and I have a platform,” he says. “I’m now mentoring some youth myself and hope to have my first fight in five months. Crazy stuff.” Suddenly the gym lights up as one of the serious fighters does a round of padwork in the ring with Benn. The blows are loud and crisp and the children stop to watch. Gavin Smith has Brazil 2016 Olympic dreams. He has had 18 amateur fights for Blacktown PCYC and is the current ABL junior welterweight champion.

“Nigel has been in my corner for at least 10 fights,” says Smith. “We rock up to a small town in the middle of nowhere and I walk in to the ring with his hand on my shoulder. By the time I reach the ring I’m 10 foot tall.” Pinterest Benn training amateur fighter Gavin Smith at the Blacktown PCYC. Photograph: Matthew Abbott for the Guardian Some of the fights involve road trips of hundreds of kilometres during which Benn shares his wisdom. “He never talks about my opponent,” says Smith. “He says, ‘Relax, you’ve done the hard work. This is the easy part’. He is so enthusiastic, so passionate and encourages you to give everything. Go home, eat right, stay out of trouble. Discipline and focus. He makes us believe in ourselves.” When Smith won the state title, Benn jumped in the ring and hoisted him up on his shoulders to celebrate. “I’m the NSW champ, I’m sitting on Nigel Benn’s shoulders having just executed his game plan using some tricks he taught me,” says Smith. “It’s unbelievable.” As the session draws to a close, Benn is once again caked in sweat.

He towels off and says goodbye to each fighter with a hug and shoulder bump and a “God bless you man.” Everyone has left the gym except for the Benn family; Conor is unwrapping his hands after a torrid session and Nigel’s youngest son and two girls are telling stories and laughing. “My new drug is serving people whether its through boxing or in my role for Hillsong as a volunteer assisting people with their marriages or helping those less fortunate,” Benn says. “I’m great friends with an 80-year-old woman whose lawn I cut and do odd jobs for. It’s a required part of the service.” Behind every redemption story is a rock. In this case it’s Benn’s wife Carolyne. “I look at women differently now,” he says. “More respectful. And I just love my wife, man.” Despite his past, Benn is optimistic for the future. “Boxing has helped millions around the world as a trigger for self belief, identity and connecting. It is therapy for rage,” he says. Religion has helped Benn overcome the sadness and anger of losing his brother. “The man upstairs has filled the hole left by my brother’s death,” he says. Life seems good.

“I won two world titles and filled Old Trafford, owned a Bentley and a mansion, had tea at Buckingham Palace, DJ’d at Ministry of Sound, served proudly in the British Army and here I am cutting the grass of an 80-year-old woman,” he says. “And lovin’ it. I look at my life now and I feel blessed, no more drugs or smoking, I’m fittest I’ve ever been. Look at my family. I can’t ask for more.” BBC - Ben Dirs: Dark Destroyer sees the light Dark Destroyer sees the light Post categories: Boxing Ben Dirs | 07:30 UK time, Wednesday, 30 November 2011 Nigel Benn strolls into the room, fixes me with a mischievous grin and embraces me so hard I hear my spine go 'pop'. Not so much the Dark Destroyer nowadays as the Cuddly Chiropractor. Prior to Benn's prescription, my back had been giving me gip for weeks.

For the next 30 minutes, Benn takes me on a break-neck tour of his life - him at the wheel, me the passenger - so that events flash by in vivid detail: sex, drugs, soldiering and DJing, infidelity and depression, the true meaning of happiness and the recuperative word of God. At one point, he apologises for veering off-road - "you only came down here to talk about boxing" - but I tell him not to worry. This chat is why people are still drawn to the fight game. It may have lost its way since Benn's 1990s heyday, but boxers still have all the best tales. And when a boxer has taken you to places you find almost impossible to imagine, a footballer's yarn about his passion for R&B and Xbox is rather lacking in zing. Benn's rematch with Eubank at Old Trafford was watched by 18.5m on television Photo: Getty First thing to report is that the 47-year-old Benn seems fit and content - and that is largely down to God.

This statement will no doubt cause eyes to roll - Britons, unlike our American cousins, tend to be cynical when it comes to sportspeople extolling religion - but whether it is crocheting, calligraphy or Christianity that acts as the salve, it is just heartening to see an old fighter healthy in body and mind, happy with his lot. "I thought I was the best thing since sliced bread but it was a very shallow life," says Benn, a former two-weight world champion who had two era-defining fights with Chris Eubank in the early 1990s as well as one of the most heart-rending fights of any era, his clash with Gerald McClellan, which left the American blind, deaf and wheelchair-bound. "People were telling me, 'Nigel, you're the best', and I was loving the adulation. I couldn't break that addiction to sex, drugs and rock and roll for love nor money, I was addicted to that for almost all my career. I had everything, but I lost sight of things. You have an affair and you say, 'sorry darlin', here's a new watch; sorry darlin', here's a new mansion'.

"I was hurting the woman I loved and didn't know why. I suffered depression, nervous breakdowns, I just wanted to end it all. It reminds me of Robbie Williams when he said on telly, 'I'm rich beyond my wildest dreams!' And yet he was still suffering from depression. Hello?! You've got £80m and you're suffering from depression?! But that was the same as me - all that money but there was something missing. "There were two places I was going to end up: a mental hospital or six feet under. And then I read the word of God, Mark 8:36: 'What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit your own soul?' Now I'm not chasing anything and my life is splendid." I catch up with Benn in a Tardis-like gym on an industrial estate in Telford. He is over from his home in Mallorca as an ambassador for British Military Martial Arts, a venture set up by former paratrooper Lee Matthews, a man with so many black belts in so many different disciplines they should nickname him the Swiss Army Knife of Pain.

"I thank God for Chris - how can you not like him for enabling us to do what we did?" Photo: Getty The project, which retrains ex-servicemen as martial arts instructors so that they can in turn instruct members of the general public, is close to Benn's heart. Indeed, Benn started out as a kickboxer back in his Ilford days, while the ex-Fusilier, who can still reel off his service number and exactly how long he spent in the army ("fours years and 256 days"), is as eloquent on the treatment of our ex-soldiers as he is on the Man Upstairs. "After my 18 months in Northern Ireland, it was very hard to adapt to Civvy Street," says Benn. "You're checking under your car, looking for booby traps, you're all over the place. Now all these trained soldiers, trained killers, are coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan. They've seen some gruesome things and all of a sudden it's 'here you go mate, here's your P45'. They're left to deal with what they've seen. "The government doesn't do enough for them, society doesn't look after them.

The people who fought for our freedom in the Second World War, they should be treated like kings and queens, but some of them can't even pay their electric bills." The image of Benn, the spartan soldier, is difficult to marry with that of Benn, the wild man of the British ring, but it was the army that gave him the steel to excel in his new career. "When I was on the streets of Northern Ireland during The Troubles, the rain and snow would just bounce off my chest," says Benn, "I was determined, nothing stopped me. "It gave me that little bit extra as a boxer - it was never a case of, 'oh, it's a bit cold out there, it's raining, I'm not going running'. The army taught me how to switch on and off. If I had been on Civvy Street before boxing, I would have been switched off all the time, but I was able to go out partying and then switch back on and get back into hard training." At the risk of sounding like one of the Four Yorkshiremen in the eponymous sketch ("And you try and tell the young people of today that...

they won't believe you"), it is difficult to relate to those too young to have witnessed it exactly how large Benn - and boxing in general - loomed on Britain's sporting landscape in the 1990s. Benn is an ambassador for British Military Martial Arts, the brainchild of Lee Matthews (left) His ascent through the professional ranks was as thrilling to Brits as Mike Tyson's was to Americans, each vanquished opponent another kill for the public to notch on his impressive fuselage. But 22 straight knockouts in 26 months led him to the door of the wily Michael Watson, who shot the jet down, stopping Benn inside six rounds. Benn packed himself off to the United States and promptly won the WBO middleweight crown, defending it with a shocking first-round knockout of Iran Barkley, who had been in with Michael Nunn, Roberto Duran and Thomas Hearns in his previous three fights. And then came Eubank - and perhaps the greatest rivalry British boxing has ever seen. "With Chris it was a case of 'I can lose to anyone else but him'," says Benn.

"He'd walk in wearing his jodhpurs and monocle and twirling his cane and look down his nose at me. That was it, I'd want to fight him - 'don't you dare look at me like that!' But you know what? I thank God for Chris. How can you not like him for enabling us to do what we did?" Benn seems genuinely awe-struck when I remind him how big his two bouts with Eubank were. "We had 18.5m watching the second fight on terrestrial TV," he recalls, "47,000 people at Old Trafford. Wow. Crazy. Unbelievable. Thank you Chris..." That Benn lost the first match and drew the second seems almost incidental now. As Benn puts it: "You can't get better than that." British boxing never has and probably never will. There followed the fateful fight with McClellan before two defeats to Steve Collins convinced Benn the game was up.

"When I fought Steve I knew I was kind of gone," says Benn, "but I still bet £100,000 I'd beat him, because I wanted to convince myself." And now here he stands, an avuncular figure in martial arts silks - hellraiser and womaniser turned Evangelical preacher and marriage counselor; from the mean streets of Belfast to the peak of boxing; from behind the decks to the pit of hell to "just training some kids in Telford - and having a great time doing it". Out in front of his class, Benn claps his hands and barks: "I'm gonna take you to a place you've never been..." The menace is fake, but the undercurrent is chilling: Watson, Eubank, Barkley, McClellan, Collins - they all went there with Benn, and it wasn't a nice place to be. Nigel Bennett Imdb - Nigel Benn Net Worth Nigel Bennett Imdb Read more... Nigel Benn Nigel Benn Net Worth is .. Nigel Gregory Benn (born 22 January 1964), known as the "Dark Destroyer", is a British former boxer who held world titles in the middleweight and super-middleweight divisions.

Benn was also in the British Army, where he served in the Troubles for 18 ... Nigel Benn Net Worth is . Nigel Benn Net Worth is . Nigel Gregory Benn , known as the "Dark Destroyer", is a British former boxer who held world titles in the middleweight and super-middleweight divisions. Benn was also in the British Army, where he served in the Troubles for 18 months. He attended Loxford School of Science and Technology, Ilford, Greater London. Now he lives in Sydney, Australia with his family. Barbadian British, Benn comes from a sporting family that includes a famous cousin in the football world, Paul Ince, who would often accompany Benn to the ring for his UK fights. Benn had a record of 41 wins and 1 loss as an amateur boxer, with the loss being against Rod Douglas, whom Benn later defeated. Benn turned professional in 1987 and began a streak of consecutive knockout wins. During this time, Benn won the vacant Commonwealth middleweight title with a second round win over Abdul Umaru. At 22-0 , Benn defended his Commonwealth title against Michael Watson in a heavily h... Will James DeGale vs.

Badou Jack become another transatlantic classic? Nigel Benn vs. Gerald McClellan, London (1995) Londoner Benn defended his WBC world title despite being knocked out of the ring in the first round and then floored again in the eighth. Benn battled back to halt McClellan in the 10th after a thunderous and ... Posted: January 13, 2017, 8:35 am Briton on a mission to promote boxing in Singapore He grew up watching the likes of Frank Bruno, Nigel Benn, and "Prince" Naseem Hamed shoot to fame and elevate professional boxing in England in the 1980s and 1990s. Now, Scott O'Farrell wants to help Singapore find its own boxing heroes. To do just that ... Posted: January 9, 2017, 2:00 pm Nigel Benn's estranged son Harley is making his own way in boxing: 'I don't get on with my dad...

but I'm proud of the name' The novice middleweight is dripping sweat on to the canvas, flicking out jabs before setting his feet and throwing the shot he likes most. A huge right crashes into the pad and then another, each one loaded with aggression and easy comparisons to the man ... Posted: December 21, 2016, 2:35 pm DeGale vs. Jack stats May 3, 1997 Robin Reid W12 Henry Wharton – Manchester, Eng. Mar. 2, 1996 Thulani Malinga W12 Nigel Benn – Newcastle, Eng. Oct. 3, 1992 Nigel Benn TKO4 Mauro Galvano – Marino, It. Dec. 7, 1989 Sugar Ray Leonard W12 Roberto Duran – Las Vegas ... Posted: January 12, 2017, 9:42 am The Cult: Nigel Benn | FIGHTLAND The Cult: Nigel Benn Tweet Illustration by Dan Evans The latest inductee to The Cult was a popular and gutsy British boxer whose bouts with Chris Eubank attracted huge TV audiences.

You can (in fact you must) read our previous entries here . Cult Grade: From Darkness into Light Nicknames in sport sometimes come across as forced, but when Nigel Benn stalked into a boxing ring as "The Dark Destroyer" it felt like a natural fit. During his heyday in the 1990s, there were times when Benn went to a dark place within himself – where years of anger lay buried – and became capable of destroying anything that lay in his path. Even his own life seemed to teeter over the abyss. The man whose fights with Chris Eubank became the stuff of British sporting legend was shaped by an emotionally fraught journey to the top. Born to Barbadian immigrants, the sixth of seven boys, Benn grew up in Ilford, north-east London. He first experienced tragedy when his elder brother and hero, Andy, died in suspicious and violent circumstances. Nigel was just eight, and he later talked of carrying the anger and confusion over his brother's death deep into his adult life. He quickly grew into a tough kid who wasn't afraid to express himself with his fists.

Nigel shoplifted and fought with local National Front skinheads, hustled and smoked, and seemed to be heading towards a fate similar to that of his lost sibling. Aware of this, his father Dixon pushed him towards joining the army, another elder brother having already done the same. It was in the forces that Benn took up boxing, finding an immense aptitude for the sport, as well as a new sense of purpose and direction. He not only dominated in the ring, but began coaching others, too. When asked in interviews, Benn can recall the exact time he spent in the army: "Four years, 256 days". For 18 months of that stretch he was stationed in Northern Ireland, a country still gripped by its long-running ethno-nationalist struggle. And, while the service had positives, the experience of being a young black squaddie in a conflict zone left another mark on Benn's soul. Boxing success followed as an amateur and a pro, but there was no fairtytale element to Benn's career.

He lost his Commonwealth title to Michael Watson in 1989, lost to his bitter rival Eubank in 1990, and was then denied what he felt should have been his redemptive moment when their rematch was scored a draw in 1993. Even what could have been his greatest achievement – defeating the much-hyped Gerald McClellan in a brutal encounter in 1995 – was marred by tragedy. After being written off by the bookies and knocked out of the ring in the first round, Benn fought back with typical heart to beat his opponent. It should have been one for the ages, but a blood clot on the brain left McClellan permanently disabled, blind, and requiring round the clock care to this day. That fight is only remembered for its dreadful aftermath, for leaving McClellan in darkness. Try as he might, not all of Benn's demons could be exorcised in a boxing ring. Throughout his years as a top-draw fighter he battled drink and drug addiction, had numerous affairs, and attempted suicide in 1999.

He was a man who seemed always on the brink of being enveloped by the darkness, forever battling to stay just the right side of an evil force that could only sometimes be harnessed. It would have been little surprise if Benn had allowed the darkness to destroy him entirely, but today, as a born-again Christian, he seems to have found peace within himself. Perhaps some old scars remain, but it would seem that the Dark Destroyer cherishes his new life in the light. Point of Entry: Medium After leaving the army Benn took work as a security guard while climbing the amateur ranks, eventually making his professional debut shortly after his 23rd birthday, in January 1987. By the following April he had become Commonwealth middleweight champion, but lost the belt to the talented Watson. Benn picked himself up and fought on, a theme of his career and life. Contesting his next five fights in the United States, in April 1990 he earned the WBO middleweight title by defeating American Doug DeWitt, then made a successful defence against Iran Barkley. Benn was now a world champion and his star had grown back home.

His life was about to become inextricably linked with the man who he would face next: Chris Eubank. The build up to their fight in November 1990 was as bitter as any in British boxing. There is a TV clip from the pre-fight contract signing in which Eubank refuses to look at Benn in an effort to psyche his opponent out; all Benn can do is stare menacingly at the back of his rival's head. Eubank is asked if he hates Benn and replies that he does not; asked the same question, Benn replies, "I do personally hate him." And you sense that, in the moment, he really bloody means it. In hindsight, this long-running feud between the broadly disliked Eubank and the considerably more popular Benn was a fantastic box office draw and made both men very wealthy, a fact Benn now acknowledges with a smile. 18 million watched their second fight in 1993, roughly one in every four people in Britain. Like all good foes, they desperately needed each other. Naturally, Benn would have preferred to be on the winning side of at least one of those bouts.

The first was a dramatic contest, Benn knocking Eubank down in the ninth only for his opponent to rise and land a left hook, then a flurry of blows that ended the fight. Afterwards, Eubank called Benn the hardest puncher he had ever faced. Again, Benn picked himself up and found new success. After the Eubank defeat he went on a 10-fight winning streak that included claiming the WBC super middleweight title in October 1992 and defending it three times. Soon enough, Eubank was calling again. But, by the second contest, Eubank had been forever changed by his bout with Watson, who suffered permanent neurological damage after their fight in 1991. Eubank seemed to have lost his finishing instinct, and was fighting opponents of questionable quality. Of course, he was always going to be up for the Benn fight. Though it did not hit the same high notes as the first it was nevertheless unmissable and, with the scorecards level late on, the final round saw both men go to war to secure the win. The bout was declared a draw; Benn retained his WBC belt, Eubank his WBO championship.

For Benn, two more successful defences followed before the McClellan fight. Though he retained his title twice more after that dark night in London, he was not the same afterwards. He surrendered his super-middleweight title to "Sugar Boy" Malinga in March 1996 with a display that did not resemble the Nigel Benn of old. The heart had gone; two more defeats to Steve Collins signalled an overdue end. Like Eubank, Benn could not claim to have been the best in the world – Roy Jones Jr held that mantle in the middleweight divisions during this period, and neither fought the American. But he was a brave, hugely determined man who would always fight to the bitter end. Benn at his best was like a wounded animal, one that attacked with most ferocity when he'd been hurt emotionally or physically. Take him to a dark place and Nigel Benn could destroy almost anything. The Moment: Coming back for more, vs Gerald McClellan The McClellan fight epitomised Benn: to be knocked clean out of the ring in the first round (at 3 minutes in the video below), then return with a flurry of blows in the second, was his life in microcosm.

What happened later in the bout was a tragedy, but in that moment of recovery Benn had shown himself to be the gutsiest of fighters. Closing Statement "I can't say [Gerald McClellan] was my best fight, though, because he came out in a wheelchair, blind and 80 per cent deaf. Not that I cared at the time because I wasn't a Christian at the time and thought everybody had to be knocked over."––Nigel Benn

Question: Which British boxer was nicknamed ‘The Dark Destroyer’?
Answer: Nigel Benn